Playing to the Band by Dustybritches01
by Words of Love for Meli
Summary: On a night celebrating Emmett McCarty's singing career, Emmett and his wife remember the everyday magic behind his music.
_**Playing to the Band**_

 _(Inspired by Chris and Morgane Stapleton, but nothing in this fiction reflects on their own unique story.)_

On a night celebrating Emmett McCarty's singing career, Emmett and his wife remember the everyday magic behind his music.

Genre-Romance R & Em

 **I** felt a bead of sweat run down the back of my dress.

 _Great, I was going to have pit stains in all of the pictures!_

I was working at calming myself when Em leaned toward me. He ran his bear claw along my leg and capped my knee as he whispered, "Rose, you got my notes? I can't find them." After all these years, he still had no idea what his casual touch did to me.

I reached over his broad chest, patted his inner coat pocket, and felt his humored rumble under my hand.

He captured my hand and held it against his heart for a moment.

I smiled as he released me and the audience applauded as the next two presenters of the night sauntered toward the mic.

I studied my husband's profile as he watched the stage. He had the look of a barely tamed mountain man. His soft, fluffy beard rested on his buttoned vest, and his low-billed straw hat kept his long sandy hair in place as it cascaded past the shoulders of his knee-length suit coat. He was a beautiful, rugged man with the quiet soul of a poet.

And he was mine.

I swallowed the proud lump in my throat as the list of nominees for _Best Single by a Male Vocalist_ sounded from the stage.

Em dropped his head with a shy smile and grabbed my knee when the words ' _Sojourner_ by Emmett McCarty' filled the room.

I covered his hand with mine as _Sojourner_ began playing and they announced the winner.

He gave my knee a squeeze and was gone, walking the mile to the stage two rows away. My heart ached to follow him. Even though he was in front of crowds and on stages across the country night after night, he hated being in the spotlight.

I watched him lean in to receive a hug from the pretty young thing holding the award, much as he would his sister. When he turned to the mic, the brim of his hat cast a shadow across his eyes.

It was just as well.

I thought back to the first time I saw him performing. I was a skinny, knobby-kneed sixteen-year-old. He was on his Uncle C's front porch playing with the older men of his family as people danced in the yard. I pushed my way past the tables of food to get a good look at the quiet boy back from working his brother's farm. I moved close to the impromptu stage to catch his eye, but he didn't play to the audience, he played to the band. He'd send a shy smile toward the crowd, but his focus stayed on the men playing around him and his hands moving skillfully over the strings of his guitar. I had to wait until well into the night for him to put down his guitar and notice me. It was my first kiss, out under his momma's Magnolia.

I focused back on him, up on stage, surrounded by all the bright lights and glamor, and smiled. He still played to the band.

He scratched his forehead, "It's a kindness, y'all think so highly of my music. I've enjoyed singing it for 'ya." He smiled shyly as the audience laughed. "I guess I ought to thank my label and manager. They've put a lot of stock in an old country boy from the back roads of Tennessee."

I saw John Marcus from Blackwater Records nod toward the stage and Mickey James, Em's manager fist pump the air as they were recognized.

"But mostly, I need to thank my wife." He lifted his chin bringing his eyes out from the shadow and looked straight at me. "She keeps me straight and makes me look good." He gave me a wink and a nod before waving his trophy and walking off stage with the sweet young thing trotting behind him.

As the show went to commercial, people stood, stretching, and talking, but I stayed put as another bead of sweat rolled between my shoulder blades.

 _Damn!_

"Our boy did good, huh?"

I looked up to see Mickey leaning over the seat between us.

'Our boy'- Mickey didn't know Em beyond the image, but he learned from the last two fired managers not to impose on the creative side of things. Em would play anywhere and promote as needed but he picked his people, and he controlled the music. Once he found a manager to play along with his way, it was like the sails caught the wind to the joy of all on board.

I smiled graciously, "He did just fine."

 **~o0o~**

 _I need my Rosie. She always gets me ready for the next set. Why didn't I tell her to come back with me?_

 _Shit._

I handed my statue to Mickey's assistant and found a wall to put my back against. The next presenters were standing just off stage waiting for their cue. People were milling about, but just off to the side my eye caught the little redhead that presented my award. She gave me a saccharine smile as she held my eye, trying for seductive.

 _Lord!_

I shook my head and looked away. Maybe it was because I was setting up to perform _Bourbon Bound_ with Jasper Hale but I closed my eyes, and I was back in that off stage dressing room with that little brunette between my legs.

 _I rested my bourbon soaked head against the back of the couch, feeling, just feeling_ _as s_ _he ran her hands up my thighs._

 _As fingers began working my belt buckle, a ringing from the side table had me crack my eye and turn my head in time to see Rose's number flash across my phone screen._

 _My heart lurched, and I came rushing back to my surroundings. I pushed the girl away from me and stepped over her sprawled body._

 _I canceled my next gig, firing my manager in the process, and flew home to Rosie's bed. She had stayed home to be a comfort to her heartbroken cousin. How could I begrudge her time with family?_

 _I told her the next day about the near disaster and checked into rehab with a black eye and busted lip. But she was there waiting for me when I got out. She loved me up good for two days straight when she got me home, making sure I knew which side my bread was buttered on._

 _When I got back to the band, Ben and I wrote Bourbon Bound, and I told Rosie to purchase a travel bus with a big ass bed in the back because she was staying on the road with me._

I needed my Rosie. She looked so beautiful tonight. The stylist wanted to pile her long hair in some fancy do, but I'd have none of it. They pulled her hair back from her face making it puff up a bit, and her golden locks were extra shiny down her back, curling at the ends. Yeah, she was awfully pretty tonight.

I opened my eyes. The girl was gone, and Jasper Hale stood grinning before me.

"Jasper," I said standing taller.

"You ready for this!" his face broke out in an infectious grin as he smacked my back.

I grinned back at him, nodding.

Jasper was a pop star. He started in a boy band and was a great performer. He knew how to get a full stadium on their feet.

I looked him over from his topknot to his sneakers and grinned again. I liked him. He was good people.

 **~o0o~**

I smoothed my skirt, trying to sooth my nerves as the MC announced Em and Jasper Hale. The stage lights came up on the right, and there was the band behind the two singers. The familiar beginning notes of _Bourbon Bound_ began, and I settled into my seat.

I remembered the birth of that song. Em said it was his tithe back to God for giving him the clarity to make things right and keep me with him. I never thought of leaving—a frying pan upside his head—yes, but packing a bag—never.

I smiled as he bowed his head over his guitar in the bridge of the song. He had been so contrite and earnest during that time, I was humbled to watch him work so hard to get it right and keep it right. And I thanked God every day for the gift of such a big-hearted man.

The audience clapped as the song morphed from _Bourbon Bound_ to Jasper's 2015 hit _Liquid Love._ The audience was on their feet as strobe lights kept the rhythm and I looked to my honky-tonk man to find him smiling broadly and enjoying himself. They made a good team. Jasper worked the room and built the energy of the audience, and Em's electric guitar jammed with Hale's charged lyrics taking it to a whole, new level.

As the crowd roared, the two men bowed and pointed to each other to give away the credit for the success of the set. I knew by the way Em was smiling that he had a new friend in Jasper Hale.

 **~o0o~**

I rushed to change my shirt, combed my hair and beard after the set, and tried not to let my frustration show as well-wishers stopped me as I raced back to my seat next to Rosie.

When I finally slid in next to her, the awed pride welling in her eyes had my heart free-falling. It was the same sweet look she had when she got my attention twenty years ago. She was such a sweet young peach.

Damn—I'd still walk through fire to have her swing her shine my way.

I dropped my hand to her knee, and she gave it a squeeze. I was never one for public display, what Rosie and I had wasn't for others to share, but right then I wanted to kiss her—hard. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and feel her melt against me and know that no one got to see that side of my sweet firecracker but me, lucky sonofabitch that I was.

"You didn't use your notes," she said leaning in and giving me a tease of cleavage.

I focused on her hand resting on mine, "Yeah, I couldn't think," I said with a shrug.

"Well, you did just fine," I caught her smile out of the corner of my eye as the presenters announced the nominees for _Best Album of the Year_.

I patted my pocket, feeling the stiff paper, as they announced ' _Sojourner_ by Emmett McCarty and Blackwater Records.'

 _Sojourner_ began playing, and Mickey was pulling me out of my seat with a whoop and a back slap. He led me up to the stage with Marcus and his merry men followed close behind.

A group of six men gathered around the mic, but Mickey pushed me to speak. I couldn't think and rambled about the project before stepping back for John Marcus to have his say. As I listened to Marcus drone on, I couldn't escape the feeling that I had forgotten something and tried to remember what I had said. Before I could sort it out, the music was swelling, and Marcus was leading the group off the stage.

Mickey had his arm around my shoulder as we walked off when it hit me.

I shrugged out of his arm and moved back to center stage. When the music faded, the room fell silent.

I searched beyond the stage lights and found her in the aisle.

"Uh—this album wouldn't be complete without Rose McCarty's harmonies. I—I'm accepting this on Rose's behalf." I dropped my head but not before I saw her slender hand go to her heart.

 _There—that's better._

I touched my hat brim with a nod and left the stage as the music continued.

 **~o0o~**

I stood stunned in the middle of a sea of people. Not that Em recognized me. He always made sure I got credit and billing as part of the band. It was the fact that he went to such lengths at the risk of his own public discomfort.

"Rose, can I escort you backstage?" I turned to see Jasper Hale at my elbow.

He gave me a kind smile as I realized how many were staring at me.

"For being so reserved, he sure can shock a room," Jasper laughed.

"Yes, he can and yes, you may," I said as I took his arm.

Once we attained the lobby, we were able to walk side by side and talk.

"Y'all did great," I began.

He smiled and ducked his head. I cocked mine, not expecting shyness from this man after his over-the-top stage performance.

"Yeah, that was fun. I'm meeting up with you next month for four gigs. My manager wasn't sure about those bookings, but I wouldn't miss a chance to share a stage with Emmett," Jasper said.

"He told me when we come off the road you're going into the studio with him," I said.

"Yeah, two songs, one from my label and one from his," he said as he held the side stage door for me. "I'm in awe of your husband, Rose," Jasper confided.

Before I moved into the congestion of the backstage world, I squeezed his forearm and smiled, "Me too."

 **~o0o~**

Mickey clapped his hand down on my shoulder to stop me from pacing. "She's in the dressing room, buddy."

I nodded and found a wall to lean against. The band was setting up on the dimly lit stage, but I couldn't go out there until I saw her.

Maybe we were together too much. We had a rhythm to life, Rosie and me. We finished each other's sentences, each other's breaths. I shook my head.

Then there she was, walking toward me. She was still in the haltered, top half of her dress but now her long legs were sheathed in leather that hugged her curves from hip to ankle.

 _Damn!_

She walked straight to me, her smile brightening as she came.

"You didn't use your notes," she laughed.

I dropped my gaze and caught a glimpse of cleavage. That was a mistake. I looked to the side and smiled.

"Yeah, I think I got to all the important people, though."

She took my hand and gave it a warm squeeze. "Thank you," she said in her soft 'just us' voice.

I swallowed thickly and nodded before leading her on stage.

When the lights came up everything fell away and with the first notes of _Let the Stars Fall,_ I felt my shoulders ease under my guitar strap.

Rose and I wrote this song after we heard her cousin, Bella, was breaking up with her husband, that cheating sonofabitch. She was with my cousin Edward, Uncle C's boy, now, safe and happy, but the terror of permanent separation had us up talking and writing to the early hours of the morning. Ben came on with the verse tune and bridge later. It was the most downloaded song off our _Sojourner_ album.

I added my guitar to the intro and stepped to the mic. As I sang the first verse, I could see Rose in my periphery swaying with her eyes on me. God, she was gorgeous under the stage lights.

As we rounded into the chorus, she stepped to the mic, and I closed my eyes relishing the thrill as our voices blended.

It carried me back to that first night.

After the kiss I stole under the Magnolia, we walked back hand in hand. Something had shifted into place with that kiss, and I didn't hesitate to lead her back to my family.

Nearing two in the morning, most people had left. Muted light shining through the curtained windows lit the porch scattered with long necks where my uncles and their friends still played, calling out a chord or a song title occasionally.

I sat on the third step as she took the second slightly apart from the men. Edward handed me my guitar with a knowing grin, and I released her hand to take it. Their music wound down to include me, and I corded my guitar for a minute, fully aware of the pretty girl next to me.

The intro cords for _Stardust_ were filling the air before I knew what I was playing. Uncle C's guitar came in with me, but everyone sat this love song out choosing to sit back and drink for a bit. I felt her swaying to the soft ballad, and it thrilled me to sing my heart's thoughts. When Uncle C rounded out the last cords, and the last sweet notes hung in the air, Uncle Ed smacked the side of his guitar breaking the spell.

"Enough of that!" Sending a fit of laughter through the group as he began the opening for _Ghost Riders in the Sky_. Everyone sat up to get in on this one. On the second verse, I glanced over to see her face lit up with the music, and my heart gave a lurch.

It was as natural as breathing to go straight into _Highwayman_. Uncle C took the highwayman and called for me to take the sailor. When she came in at the end of my verse I tripped over my tongue, and the men laughed, but she continued to embroider around Uncle Ed's dam builder and on into Jimmy's starship pilot to finish out the song dancing her voice over our final cords. Uncle C told me later that her voice reminded him of _Emmy Lou Harris_.

The men stopped and clapped making her blush and hide behind her hair, and I couldn't take my eyes off her as I fingered the cords for _Silver Wings_. Uncle C joined in but left the vocals to me. When her voice blended with mine on the chorus on that cool summer evening, it was as if a lightning bolt had run along my spine, fusing her to me. She was mine. I would never hear my voice again without feeling it incomplete. Her voice rounded out mine on some cosmic level that made me feel that the angels were leaning over the clouds' edge to hear us.

Looking across the stage at her as she concentrated her voice and gaze on me, I felt that same lightning bolt. Our voices belonged together. She was mine, and I was hers.

We finished the song to a standing ovation, but I didn't see beyond the band, beyond her.

As the lights dimmed, the band began breaking down the stage. My grip tightened on the neck of my guitar as she swayed toward me through a swarm of men and movement. Before I could weigh my actions, I pulled her by her waist toward me and covered her mouth with mine. She smiled as we pulled back and smoothed her hand down my beard as she whispered, "Your notes are in your inside coat pocket when you need them." She placed a kiss in the beardless spot just below my lip, patted my chest, and was gone, blending into the sea of people swarming around me.

 **~o0o~**

I didn't have time to change back into my skirt and just made it back to my seat as they announced the nominees for _Best Female Vocalist_.

Mickey was sitting in Em's seat and stood to let me slip by.

I took a deep breath to settle myself and felt a sweat drop slide down my temple. _Damn_. I discretely wiped my brow and settled to focus on the stage as they began tearing open the envelope.

"There's nothing finer than hearing you two together."

Mikey's slightly nasal voice caught my attention. As the audience burst into applause, I looked at him and saw nothing but sincerity.

I nodded, "I love singing with him."

"It shows," he said shifting slightly closer as he lowered his voice.

"I did some research, getting ready for the press coverage and you know what I found?"

I looked him in the eye unsure where he was going with this.

"I looked all the way back to when he was doing local honky-tonk gigs. You are the only band member to be with him through his whole career. You were his charter band member, and here you are still with him today." He smiled with that, and I couldn't help but share his smile, nudging him with my shoulder.

My heart warmed with pride for my man as they announced Emmett McCarty as _Best Male Vocalist_ and the crowd stood to their feet as he climbed the stairs once again, but this time from the front row.

He motioned for them to take their seats and the room grew quiet with anticipation. He stood there in the center of the universe, and I was just beginning to fear he was struggling under the weight of the spotlight when he spoke.

"I can't tell you how much your generous notice of my music has meant to me." He paused, organizing his words and continued, "Singing on stage has always been as much fun as singing on my Uncle C's porch back home. As long as it continues to hold that much appeal, you'll be hearing my music for a long time to come. I thank you."

The crowd began to clap, but he held up his hand to silence them. He looked over to our seats and locked eyes on me.

"Rosie?" I felt the cameras focus on me, but I smiled back at him,"—all of this—" he waved his trophy over the stage and audience, "—it just wouldn't do without you."

With my heart in my throat, I nodded as a tear rolled down my cheek.

As the audience thundered around us, Mickey squeezed my hand. "Come on; let's meet our boy back stage before the media gets a hold of him."

I squeezed his hand, glad to have him with me.

 **~o0o~**

Mickey's assistant led me through the throng of well-wishers, parting the sea with an armload of trophies. I made it to the edge of the makeshift stage and looked out to a sea of cameras. I took two steps back as my mouth dried to a desert.

A slender hand running over my shoulder and down my arm made me turn. She smiled knowingly at me, and I could breathe again.

Mickey slapped my back and moved around me to get everything lined up for my backstage interviews.

Rosie turned me to her and stepped into my space with a smile. I softened, smiling back as my hand rested on her hip pulling her closer. She seemed to fall under the shadow of my hat as she leaned into me.

She ran her hands over my beard before resting them on my chest. "Just a couple of days and we'll be back home."

I nodded, the hope of some free time galvanizing me to face the onslaught of cameras and questions.

"We'll take the horses up to the ridge. It's so pretty this time of year." She said softly as she tucked my hair behind my ear.

I smiled and added, "You'll pack a picnic?"

She leaned back and laughed but my hand on her hip held her to me.

"Cold chicken and potato salad?" she asked with a lift of her brow.

I smiled contentedly, "Yeah, that'll do just fine."

 **~o0o~**

I watched Rose and Emmett from across the media room stage.

My chest tightened as I watched her run her hands down his beard, soothing the bear of a man. She took a paper from his coat pocket and tore it in half before throwing it over her shoulder, making him laugh.

I shifted my feet in frustration. I wanted the kind of control and contentment Emmett had.

I watched Mickey James orchestrating the people around Emmett. He worked his tail off all night to keep Emmett free of distractions. My manager worked every bit as hard as James did. That was not what I was missing.

Blackwater Records had been a great label for Emmett's last three albums, but my label had carried me all the way. No, it was not my label.

Our careers paths were very different. He built his career steadily over twenty years. Everything came at me so fast that I never had a moment to get my priorities straight, maybe that's why I still felt so out of balance.

I looked up to see Emmett walking on stage with an arm full of trophies, towing his wife behind him.

"Emmett, can you take your hat off for the photos?" someone hollered.

"No," he said, and the room laughed.

"Can you lift your chin?" the same voice asked seeking compromise.

Emmett smiled shyly and lifted his head bring his eyes out of the shadow and the room filled with whirs and clicks.

I watched as Rose stood next to Emmett as the cameras flashed. She was so beautiful under the stage lights. Watching her, I knew what I needed to bring balance and meaning to my chaos.

Taking one more look at the stage, I fled the crowded room and pulled out my phone.

A sleepy voice answered, "Jazzy?"

I smiled with relief washing over me as I leaned my head against the brick wall and felt the seismic shift as my world fell into place.


End file.
